PRISONERS AND MONSTERS

This is a story about two brothers who are captured and imprisoned by the secret police. Even though this is a fictional story, similar things have been known to happen. There may come a time when mother’s tell their kids- not that go to sleep or a monster will come lurking around but go to sleep because the monster may be the man who lives across the street.

He looked as if he had seen a ghost. His eyes were wide open and even though his gaze was upon me, his thoughts seemed far away.”They are here”, he finally managed. I raised my eyes only to find his conveying the fear I felt. The fear we all felt.

It is not the dead I fear for they have served their term in this hell on Earth and now rest in peace. It is the living I fear for they can be far more inhuman. I am a prisoner here along with my brother. We do not know the reason for our imprisonment. My name is Ali and I am fifteen. My brother’s name is Hamid and he is seventeen. We share this cell along with thirty other prisoners.

I clearly remember the day we were brought here. We were roaming the market, searching for the items which mother had sent us to buy. The items weren’t many as we could not afford much. A couple of men smoking cigarettes stared at us as we passed by. Then one of them caught my brother by the collar and punched him in the face. My brother tried to fight back but there were too many of them. We were beaten in front of everyone. The men said they belonged to the secret police. They handcuffed us and brought us here.

No single person from our cell has been sent home alive. Our families usually receive our bodies in body bags and that is if they are lucky enough to receive a body. I am not sure our parents have been informed where we are.

We are tortured in the hope that we may agree to have committed treason, but most people here are innocent. The nights are the worst when the screams of tortured prisoners echo through the prison cells.

My brother looks at me as if he has seen a ghost. His eyes are wide open.”They are here”, he manages. His eyes meet mine reflecting the pain and fear in mine as I stumble through the door of the prison cell. He catches me before I fall to the ground. He knows they have electrocuted me from the rotten smell which rises from my burnt skin. I would like to tell him that it’s not so bad, except for the fact that they have cut off my tongue.

Stay

It was easier back then, all he had to do was pack his bags and leave.

It was harder back then, he never had a reason to stay

Now he had her, and she was everything he needed.

But she was no longer there to tell him that.

SHADOWS AND SLAVES

How is the dark unknown if you can define it as the dark? It is the light that is undefinable. Because even when you see you can never be sure of what it is that you are seeing. Faces are masks where your eyes are the only slits that allow a glimpse of the soul. Everyone has a slave in a shadow, it does what you do, when you do it. But as soon as it gets dark, the shadow gets a chance to escape and be free in whatever realm it is that shadows are free.

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AND THE GHOST SMILED(FLASH FICTION)

(This is based on a true incident as narrated by a friend of mine, at the very least what I remember of it.)

The lawns pressed by unseen feet, and ghosts return Gently at twilight, gently go at dawn,The sad intangible who grieve and yearn….

T.S. ELIOT, To Walter de la Mare

 

“You both were having fun yesterday,” the woman at the reception said to them.

“We don’t remember seeing you,”he replied.

As they were walking by, his friend nudged him in the ribs. For some unknown reason he seemed to have gone white as a sheet of paper.

He turned to look at one of the screens on the woman’s  desk displaying the feed from the cameras.

The feed showed that the chair behind the reception desk was empty and swiveling by itself.

The woman continued to smile at them.

SEAFRET TO INDIA

Sometimes you find the music you’ve been searching for and sometimes that music finds you. Thank you https://akansha1104.wordpress.com/  .

There is an upcoming indie duo from Bridlington, UK.  It is formed by Jack Sedman (vocals) and Harry Draper (guitar). They have recently released their debut album ‘Tell Me Its Real’. They toured with Kodaline earlier.

They are already booked for the summers touring through Europe. They would love to perform in India and they have a huge following here. They will be performing in Berlin and Paris in the month of may.

 

Their music is amazing paired with lyrical genius. We have managed to contact them and they would as I said love to perform in India. We are looking for sponsors or music promoters who might be interested.

 

If anyone is interested or knows someone who might be please let me know. You can mail me at shitijsharma24@gmail.com .

Please …this is a request….its an amazing band and India deserves to hear them play.

IF THE DEAD CAME TO LIFE

It sucked the joy out of him, seeing her laugh at someone else’e jokes, seeing her happy with someone that was not him. After all that he had done to get back to her only to find her cheating on him with some other guy. Technically it was not cheating because he was dead but he was not dead now was he, he was right there in flesh and blood, standing in front of her. It had not even been twenty four hours since his body had been lowered into the ground and here she was happy that he was finally gone, happy that she would no longer have to hide.

to be continued..

 

OF STRANGE GODS AND STRANGER MONSTERS

What kind of a world is this in which monsters kill innocent strangers in the name of another stranger, for in a world such as this God is surely a stranger and not the innocent kind at that.

Six Word Stories – Smothered

Hold your breath,

count to death

LOOK IN THE MIRROR THAT IS THE OCEAN

Look in the mirror that is the ocean

for there are not enough mirrors to view the world as one….

I hate the way it takes so long for things to come together and yet no time at all for them to fall apart

I especially hate the way that it takes just one glance to judge someone’s guilt but a hundred pleas before you believe in his innocence

I hate the way reputation is the way other’s look at you

and not the way you look at yourself

I hate the way that loving yourself can be frowned upon

but hating yourself is encouraged

Simply because most people are incapable of understanding the way the world works

and the ones that do understand

they no longer wish to be a part of it

and thus are born the outcasts

that hope  that one day

they will change the way the world views itself….